


The Grand-Vader

by LadyLustful



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ben is conceived earlier and everything changes, Crack Treated Seriously, Darth Vader Redemption, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, POV Darth Vader, Protective Vader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21810493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLustful/pseuds/LadyLustful
Summary: Kylo is conceived not after ROTJ, but at the end of ANH. As a result, a lot of things happen differently.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	The Grand-Vader

So it starts like that. The Death Star is destroyed, but so is Alderaan, Vader's missing; she is at once jubilant and heartbroken, crushed and relieved, and above all, shaken and desperately lonely and Solo is a smug, scruffy, smuggling scoundrel, but he has a pretty face and a good heart and can be charming when he tries and funny when he doesn't. And, she concedes later, she was right about the feeling he'd be good in bed.

The nausea comes later. She doesn't throw up, exactly, but she does feel like she might if she swallows anything but a few sips of water or watery herb tea before about noon. By lunchtime, she is feeling almost herself again, ready to tackle some crackers and light stew, with a sauce she never fancied before but saw Luke and Han eating – but the very smell of her once-beloved caf makes her queasy from across the room.

Vader, who by some fluke or miracle of the force manages to get to Imperial forces and survive, is experiencing similar symptoms.  
„We scanned your head for signs of trauma from the crash, nothing. We've run tests for every parasite, bacterium, virus, fungus, or toxin in known space remotely likely to cause such symptoms. Nothing. Frankly, what is left is a suddenly developed intolerance to your nutrient mix or psychogenous reasons.”  
„You mean I find my situation nauseating?”  
„Exactly, milord.”  
„That has been the case for the past twenty years or so, but I only feel physically sick now. Dismissed, Major.”  
He has everything checked by three other doctors, just in case one in league with the hypothetical poisoner, but everything appears in perfect order. He does not tell any of them about the sudden craving for Revenge of the Sith hot pepper sauce or Tattooine blue milk yoghurt. After all, he has been missing some taste or another for almost half of his life.

„I got you Tattoine blue milk yoghurt”. Luke is standing at her door, a jar in his hands. Tentatively, she opens it, sniffs, takes a sip and almost comes in her pants.  
„Good force, Luke! That's great, how did you know what I needed?”  
„My aunt used to give it to me when I had an upset stomach. She swore it was a balm for everything from food poisoning to pregnancy nausea.”  
„I'm pregnant???”  
„I truly have no idea. What do your feelings tell you?”  
„Oh kriff, I am, aren't I? Dammit Solo.”

Far away, Vader experiences a sudden rush of heavenly pleasure that almost makes him drop off his feet, followed by shock and annoyance at somebody called Solo. He wonders if they are any relation to the married freighter pilot couple he knew during the clone wars, then, briefly, what happened to those two's kid now that he's no more a kid.

For the second time in his life, Vader is experiencing dreams of childbirth. The woman, like Padme, is brown-haired and brown-eyed, coifed in buns and similar enough he thinks her to be Padme at first. Like Padme, she is having twins. But this time, she survives, sweaty and angry and and wrung-out but safe, asking „You wanna hold them, Han? Children, this is your daddy”, with a slightly giddy smile. And, what is odder, he notices that when the woman screams and pushes, he himself feels pain lance through his body, as though he is her in some measure. And sometimes, he could swear that more than Padme she resembles that fiery little rebel senator from Alderaan.

Vader decides that, unless they are wishful thinking, the dreams come from the Force, that the unknown woman must be Force-sensitive for him to receive echoes of her future (past? No, it's probably the future, the Force likes to send memories of things to come, much to his chagrin), that for him to feel her as acutely as she does, she must be almost as powerful as himself, maybe more if she is very far away, and works from that, meditating, feeling the galaxy for a female presence as bright as a star, for smaller, incipient presences almost completely obscured – tiny, far too small to think or feel, to live outside of a mother's body but strong in the Force already and only growing stronger.

Twenty years ago, he thinks, twenty years ago he wouldn't be able to have done that. Twenty years ago he wouldn't have known to cast his awareness so far outside of himself, not been willing to dive into the current of all that lives in the galaxy until he forgot himself in it. Twenty years ago, he was not intimately familiar with the desire to exit his broken body, the jealously of all healthy things that makes him wish to borrow their vibrant vitality, even for a moment; he wouldn't have been able to submerge himself in the Force until he himself was lost, forgotten, and another being found.

And this woman, this mother-to-be, is alive in a way he doesn't think he even could have been when whole - not one intact life, but more, like little sparks adding to the brightness of the sun.

He couldn't pinpoint her location on a galactic map unless he physically found her, but seeking her out through the Force is easier in a way. And the more he focuses on her, the more he is able to discern the details of her signature - more raw, untapped power than almost any Jedi he had known, almost any Sith, young, vibrating with impatience and idealism and lust and joy and angst in a way almost nobody over twenty five ever does, temper barely in check and vaguely familiar. How could he have missed such power in someone around him is vaguely worrying - but then, he wasn't actively searching until now.

He feels for her now, brushing her mind across the galaxy, just the surface at first, just enough to get a sense of who and where and how she is - and is rewarded by something pounding his insides, but strangely pleasant, a pinch of his nipples as though they weren't burned off, a sensation that feels like every time he got Padme off except rawer and stronger and so overwhelming it catches him off guard entirely.

For a moment he loses himself in being her, loses himself in a young, petite, female, able body, as unlike his own as imaginable now, loses himself in her pleasure and her lust and the way she's pushing back onto the cock and the burn in small but strong arms as she braces herself against powerful thrusts and the way her long hair sticks to her neck with sweat, the way small full breasts bounce with her motion, the way she's coming, all bright and overwhelming and perfect and too much and the way her lover is coming too, a hissed "Oh kriff, _Leia_ " in her ear, a spill of wet inside her.

He is only brought to his senses, or should he say her senses, when she stands up, naked and dripping with cum, to walk over to the mirror and fix her hair and he sees her: five feet nothing if she's an inch, dark hair in an elaborate (by non-Queen of Naboo standards) crown of braids, now messy and sweaty, small but full breasts with - is that a hickey? Is that another hickey? Wow - and is that the face of senator kriffing princess kriffing Organa of kriffing once and no more kriffing Alderaan. He missed the Organa girl being more powerful than the Emperor? He must be getting truly senile. The shock makes him break the connection. He can barely catch a "I could get used to this cohabitation thing, your worshipfulness", before he is back to his own body, in a codpiece sticky like he's a thirteen-year old padawan yet again despite most of the parts responsible being gone, his arms and legs feeling shaky like they aren't gone either.

Oddly shamed by his unintentional transgression, he resolves to stay away from princess and anything related to her, but the draw is too powerful, and again he finds himself succumbing to the temptation, tuning in for just the exquisite perfection of having an intact, functional body, the luxury of hope and love and anger and a choice, brushing the little presences to feel an echo of the peace that comes with being too small to really think in any sense of the word, drifting safe and sheltered and blissful. He finds himself dreaming of them, sometimes, of their future, of Leia with a tiny child in her arms, of Solo confused at "but he's so tiny how do I even not break him", of a child held in his own large prosthetic hands - but those are different hands, different synthetic gloves and robotic joints, less weight, more precision, the feeling of - conditional forgiveness would probably be the most accurate.

Before he knows, he decides that these people are his, his to love, his to protect at all costs.


End file.
